


Vigilante

by sasageyowrites



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Reader-Insert, Romance, Secret Relationship, Slow Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-23
Updated: 2020-12-23
Packaged: 2021-03-10 17:40:37
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,430
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28271049
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sasageyowrites/pseuds/sasageyowrites
Summary: you are a villain. Jean is a hero. It’s only nature that you are enemies. But maybe nature can be defied just one time.
Relationships: Jean Kirstein/Reader, Jean Kirstein/You, Jean/Reader, Levi & Reader
Kudos: 27





	Vigilante

**Author's Note:**

> Uploaded from my tumblr account sasageyowrites. Please enjoy.

Please do not repost

...  
Jean had seen many things in his life. Being a vigilante, it wasn’t out of the question for him to see death and the most abhorrent sights no man should ever witness.

Fighting villains and criminals no man could ever dream of even in his darkest nightmare had just become part of his life that he had grown so accustomed to seeing, it would seem strange if he didn’t see someone’s head being ripped open or some woman being hung over a shark pit of some kind for him to save.

Yes Jean had seen it all.

Nothing could shake him it seemed. Not the villains, not the constant danger, not the violence or the injuries he received from having a shoot out with the crime lords and mob bosses, not even the losses he had endured had rattled him.

But there was always something or someone who was an exception to the rule. Someone who would slip through his impenetrable walls and leave him completely defenceless.

Maybe that was why he was so shaken to see a villain stood, dripping in her own blood on his doorstep.

“Hey Horseface,” you wheezed, your hands trembling over your side where your black suit had been ripped and torn to reveal a hideous gash that ran through your (y/s/c) flesh “you gonna let me in?”

Scarlet blood seeping in thick drops through your trembling hands, your nose and lips caked in dry blood from a previous nosebleed. Your hair had been ripped from its usual ponytail, leaning the tangled locks to fall over your chest and around your face from under the protection of your hood. Your breathing loud and raspy as you leaned into the doorframe, your (y/e/c) irises staring through tired half lidded eyes up at the man in front of you.

Jean narrowed his eyes, folding his arms as he stared down at you, still unsure of what to do.

He should really call one of the vets, let them know that a dangerous criminal was stood on his doorstep. It would be the hero thing to do, it was what was expected of him to do.

You weren’t exactly a ray of sunshine, the lives you had taken, while not innocent lives, and the amount of terror you had caused the citizens was punishable by death and more. Society trusted vigilantes to work in organisations. The MP’s for the City of Sina, the Garriosn for the city of Rose and the Scouts for the city of Maria. Going rogue was a crime against the vigilante code. If he brought you in, if he called Erwin or Mike you would be quickly taken and restrained from ever hurting anyone ever again. He wasn’t going to call Levi, that would not end well.

But, you weren’t just any villain. You were (y/n). You were the girl Jean had grown up with, kids who had been neighbours and while in the ignorant bliss of childhood could never have anticipated your betrayal and the complications of growing older. You were the girl who he had been sent to fight on the rooftops of the Trost district, only for the fight to become a passionate round of hate sex. Your body having writhed underneath him, his own body trembling above yours as your intimacy occurred high above the city. He knew that he wouldn’t call the vets, he may hate to admit it but that one night, that one night had made him infatuated with you.

“Come in.” Jean sighed stepping to the side allowing the full view of his home to come into view from behind him.

Not bothering to thank him you stumbled into the corridor of his house, the warm orange light from the lamps that had been switched on in his home beginning to chase the cold you felt from the blood loss. The hardwood floors creaking beneath your combat boots as you entered the house, your knees buckling and you caught yourself on the wall. Your figure slumping against the white painted brick, staining it with your ruby smeared hands. Whether it was your blood or someone else’s was a mystery one you were to exhausted to solve.

“Hey easy.” Jean said, closing the door on the outside world to walk over to your side.

You didn’t pull away as he draped an arm over your shoulder, pulling you into him and acting like a crutch for you to lean your weight into. You would usually protest at any form of help, but you were too exhausted to care. Or maybe there was another reason that you were too insensitive to admit.

“You care to tell me what happened to you?” Jean asked as he guided you to the bathroom up the stairs, your steps heavy and body almost dropping the the floor a few times only for Jean to tighten his grip.

You glanced up at him, his handsome face meeting your own as he waited for a response, his hazel eyes trailing with concern over your still bleeding wounds.

You looked away, a blush creeping over your face suddenly finding the floor more interesting.

“I’m sticking my neck out for you here.” Jean sighed as he helped you up the final step “the least you could do is tell me why I’m helping you?”

“Shit happens.” you grumble hissing as his fingers brushed over your wound and he quickly apologised.

Guiding you along the upstairs corridor he came to stop outside a white door which you presumed was the bathroom.

He reached out, making sure to keep one arm around you, terrified to let you fall. In case you got blood on the floor, he didn’t want a stain on the carpets, he had spent good money on and he didn’t want one of the vets finding it only to ask him how it had happened.

At least that’s what he told himself.

“Sit down on the toilet lid, I’ll get your wound cleaned up.” he instructed and you nodded.

Limping away from him you hobbled to where the toilet was, using the blue tiled wall to guide you. Carefully you sat yourself down, your aching legs almost crying with relief as you allowed them a much needed break. You watched as Jean ran a hand through his ash-brown hair, his short bangs that spiked over his eyes being left in a tousled mess as he searched through the small cabinet above the sink for a medical kit. His shirt riding up his stomach slightly to reveal a set of toned abdominals underneath, you bit your lip trying to push down the attraction you felt for him.

“It should be here somewhere.” Jean mumbled as he continued to push things aside in the cabinet, pushing aside shampoo bottles and deodorant trying to find it.

“It’s ok take your time,” you say dryly leaning back on the toilet lid against the tank “I don’t mind bleeding to death.”

Jean shot you a glare, his brow furrowed in annoyance and his strong jaw clenched as he bit back the urge to retaliate. He had grown up with your snark and sarcasm, you were probably the most sarcastic person in the three city district.

Deciding the med kit wasn’t in the cabinet he crouched down to search through the cabinet the sink was on top of, muttering curses to himself at his stupidity for letting someone as rude as you take refuge in his own home.

You were beginning to feel more exhaustion wash through you, your eyes threatening to close and send you into an unwanted sleep. Your eyes growing heavy and you felt your body grow slightly limp as sleep tempered you with her seduction and promise of rest.

“Gotcha!” Jean exclaimed causing you to jolt back into the real world and not behind closed eyes.

“Great. Now please, stop my insides from becoming my outsides.” you grumbled as you watched Jean pull a green box out from the shelves of the cabinet.

He stood up and made his way over to you, kneeling in front of you and reaching a hand out to closer inspect the wound. You watched him cautiously as his fingers brushed the shredded flesh, the skin stained and ripped apart revealing nothing but a bloodied mess for him to mop up. You ignored the pain that raced through you, the electric serpents biting your nerves and sending a heat to spike through your side. But you had dealt with worse, you would suck it up.

“Is it bad?” you ask as Jean draws his hand away, the ashy-brown haired Male scoffs glancing up and at you with slight disbelief.

“It’s not great, and most of it is hidden under your suit. You’re going to have to take it off.” he informs.

You notice how his cheeks and nose are dusted a rosy pink and he turns his face down to open the small medical box to reveal an assortment of anaesthetic and bandages, if you squinted you could see plasters meant for children in there too. But you weren’t about to grill him on his choice of plasters, the blush on his cheeks was much more interesting.

“You’ve seen me naked before Horseface.” you huff as you pull the zipper of your suit down to pull the black latex from your body, the hood falling from your head and following the rest of the upper half to sit around your slim waist.

Your entire upper body exposed to him and the extent of your injuries being sliced at by the cold air of the bathroom. You waited for Jean to raise his head to treat your wound and you were hoping to get a reaction of some kind. You could use a laugh in this much pain.

“Stitch me up doc.” you hummed as Jean grabbed a few flannels from inside the bed box, he looked up ready to address the hole in your side.

His face turned even reader, his body seeming to lock in place with the flannel in his fingers halfway to meeting your wound. His eyes quivering and his body trembling upon seeing your half naked form. You arched a brow.

“W-why don’t you wear a bra or something?” he asked.

“Oh please, this suit is tight enough.” you shrug running your fingers over the latex that had once encased you “besides bras are a pain in the ass anyways, a woman needs to breathe.”

“Yeah but that’s not the point...”

“Well what is the point?”

“Nothing it doesn’t matter.” he grumbled reaching over to grasp the taps of the bath that sat beside the a toilet.

Turning the red knob to the right a gush of steaming water spouted from the metal head of the faucet. The sound of the water hitting the ceramic bath almost mimicking that of a waterfall hitting rocks below its curtain of blue water. Steam began to billow into the air causing a light mist to set over the edges of the mirrors by the sink and on the door.

You watched as Jean places the flannel under the steaming jet of water, the clean white cotton becoming a damp grey under the touch of the liquid.

“This might sting a little bit.” he said softly as he turned the tap off, the bathroom once again drowning in silence.

“Bring it.” you challenged giving him a sideways smirk.

Jean nodded, giving you a small smile in return as he brought the flannel to your side.

As soon as the hot material made contact with your open wound you winced. The hot water dripping over the dried blood and into your exposed flesh that had once resided beneath the protection of your (y/s/c) armour. The pain was blinding at first and it took all of you not to cry out, you only winced but allowed Jean to continue to clear away the pool of blood.

It was quiet for a moment. Jean just silently dabbing the scrunched up flannel to your side, the damp cotton being dyed a slight pink as your blood seeped onto the fabric.

His touch was gentle against you, as if he was afraid to cause you more pain.

Jean had been your only friend growing up. Your life had been far from easy and as expected you hadn’t turned out great. Having been orphaned as a baby and left on a doorstep of a single man, you had never known what being in a real family was like. You had seen the TV shows, the sitcoms and often fantasied what your own family had been like.

Was your mother kind like Mrs Weasley from Harry Potter? Or was she of a tougher breed like Aunt Vivian from Fresh Prince?

Was your father a strong man like dads were stereotypically known to be? Or was he more academic then brawny?

All these queries about your parents had swam in your head and filled your dreams like an infection. One that had soon become too toxic to think about. Your mother couldn’t be kind or tough, because she hadn’t been kind or tough enough to keep you. Your father couldn’t have been strong or smart, because he hadn’t been strong or smart enough to fight for you.

The man you had been left to had been a decent single parent, you would give him that much. But he was always away working, doing vigilante stuff or at the HQ. He had given you the necessities for survival and he had shown he had maybe cared for you, but he had never once said it. He never once told you were loved or cared for, never once communicated to that you were worth anything.

Then there was Jean.

The beautiful boy had been by your side all your life. He had even signed up to be a vigilante with you, working for the infamous vigilante group known as the Scouts, which your carer had also been a high ranking vigilante for. Jean had wanted to be recruited by the MP group but he had followed you and stayed in the city of Maria and joined the scouts with you.

It had been nice for a while.

Then everything fell apart.

Maybe it was the neglect. Maybe it was the hatred for a society that had given you cold shoulders since you were born, or maybe it was simply because you were bored. Whatever the reason you had rebelled, gone rogue as they would say.

You hadn’t seen your old care taker in two years, maybe three. But that night that Jean had chased after you over the rooftops, that night was still imprinted in your mind.

You had always thought of Jean as a friend, then an enemy. But you had never once thought of him as a lover. But maybe the idea seemed more appealing.

“Ouch.”

“Sorry.” Jean mumbles as he pulls away the flannel, the wound having been cleaned to reveal just how deep it was.

“Can you stitch it up?” you ask and he nods, pulling a needle and thread from the tool box along with some anti-bacterial gel to sanitise the needle with.

“It’s going to be painful, I can’t give you any anaesthetic to numb the pain either, the wound is too big and I don’t want to over estimate your dosage.” he threads the needle, the black wire sliding through the eye, he raised it to your side biting his lip, he reached his other hand out to grasp the side of your waist to hold you in place.

His touch sends bittersweet butterflies to bat your stomach and bolts of excitement to tingle over your skin. You scold yourself for becoming flustered as his light brown eyes meet your own.

“This will be painful. You ready (y/n)?”

“Round two of pain? Let’s go.”

“You can grab onto my shoulders if that helps.” he offers as he brings the needle to your side.

“I don’t think I’ll need to.”

“We’ll see. On three ok?”

You nod sucking in a deep breath, bracing your body and tensing your muscles waiting for the feeling of a needle piercing your skin. You kept your eyes closed so you couldn’t see when he would begin to stitch up your side.

Jean hesitated. He knew how to do it, he knew what he was doing. He just didn’t want you to be in pain but there was nothing her could do for now.

“One...”

“Fuck.” you seethe as the needle is poked through through your side I the corner of your cut.

Without thinking you lurch forward slightly and grasp Jeans shoulders, your face almost crashing into his as your trembling fingers grip his well built shoulders. The muscle tense and firm from under the material of his shirt, the material creasing under your fingers as you but back of a moan of pain.

“Are you ok?” Jean asked, concern evident in his voice.

“Y-Yeah just wasn’t ready.” you breathed, you raised you face to meet his eyes giving him a glare “you said to three you idiot.”

“You knew I was never going to count three.” Jean days with a lip sided grin, as he continued to stitch up your side. The thread feeling uncomfortable and painful as it seared through you with each pike and pull of the needle, but you ignored it as best you could. Instead focusing on Jean and how he felt under your grip. Your face was inches from his, your cheeks almost brushing as you expertly stitched your side.

You could hear his breath hitch in his throat as you gripped him a bit tighter, his slight arousal evident in his tension and strangled breathing.

“I remember your dad coming home and being stitched up like this.” Jean said after a quiet moment.

“Levi isn’t my dad.” you mumbled thinking back to the raven haired man who had found you on his doorstep all those years ago.

“That’s bull shit.” Jean snapped tugging on the string that was holding your wound together causing you to hiss in discomfort “he was more of a father to you then anyone else in your life.”

“Don’t act like you know my life.” you shit back, beginning to grow irritated by his assumptions.

Levi had looked after you as a baby and into your late teens. He had taught you everything you knew and was your main reason for joining the scout agency. Levi , while cold and distant at times, was the only parental figure you had ever known.

“He really misses you, you know.” Jean spike softly as you pulled the needle, the pain had seemed to ebb away. You couldn’t even feel it anymore.

“He does?” you ask your heart feeling heavy in your chest as Jean nodded, his ash-brown hair brushing your cheek as you remained hunched over and clutching his shoulders. However your grip had become less tight and more relaxed, as if you were just resting on him like nothing had changed from the old days when you would lean on him for support if you were tired.

“Of course he does. We all miss you.” Jean said “I miss you.”

You were quiet for a moment, his words resonating with you as you tried to process them.

He missed you?

You had known that Jean held a soft spot for you, you had been friends for years and of course there had been that night on the roof. But you had always assumed that his friendship with you had disintegrated when you had gone rogue, you had assumed that he had stopped caring at all about you and you had presumed that the one nighter under the stars high above city Rose had been a spurt of the moment. Were those assumptions wrong?

“Can I ask you a question?” Jean asked and you nodded.

“Sure So king as it’s not about bra again.”

“Very funny.” he huffs as he pulls the last few stitches through, the wound all bit curled by strands of black thread that lace your side up.

“What did you want to ask me?”

“Why did you come to my place?” he asks leaning down to bite the string, your breath hitching as you felt his lips brush your side as he pulled the string away to finish the stitching.

“I didn’t know who else to come to.” you replied and Jean pauses momentarily, as if your words had caused his body to stop working.

He swallowed as he placed the needle and thread down to reach into the med kit and pull out some anti bacterial wipes to run over the thread in your side.

“What about Levi?” he asks as he runs the wipes over your stitch, you scoff and it’s remarkable how similar you sound to your father figure.

“Tch. Levi wouldn’t let me leave ever again. He would try to persuade me to stay and that he could figure something out. He can’t let go.” you sigh running a hand through your hair, placing your hand back onto his shoulder “but you. I don’t know what it is about you Jean. Maybe it’s because you’ve been my friend for so long...”

“Friend?” Jean asks interrupting you as he finished a few more strokes of the wipe over your hip “is that what we are? Friends?”

“Well we aren’t enemies are we?”

“No, I just thought...”

“What that because we shagged once now I’m your secret lover or some shit?”

“No I just...did it mean anything to you?”

You were quiet for the longest time. Just letting him continue to finish up his work as your mind played over and over again, the events of the last encounter you had with him. It had been pleasure beyond your wildest dreams and you had longed to be back in arms again. To be told how beautiful you were and to have kisses pressed over your bare skin. To be loved.

“I don’t know.” you finally reply “I don’t know if that night meant anything to me or whether I just enjoyed the feelings that came with it. But I know I don’t regret it, and that I would do it again. If given the chance.”

Jean looked away from his neat stitches in your side to stare you in the eyes, his warm eyes making your heart shudder at their intensity. You had always liked his eyes, when they looked at something he cared about they would seem glow with a warmth that could only be described as enchanting.

His held that same look now as he gazed at you, his fingers ceasing their fiddling of the needle just for a second.

Your noses were inches apart now, your heart pounding against your chest with the anticipation of a potential kiss, his shallow breaths falling over your face and your fingers subconsciously running over his shoulders. His sandalwood scent filling your nose and intoxicating your sense, driving the urge to crash your lips against his. To relive the night you had spent on the roof tops with him those few months ago.

Through half lidded eyes you ran your fingers over his toned shoulders and up his neck, letting your fingernails claw slightly at the area where his spiked undercut started. Your lips now inches apart and your eyes closed, your soft lips gliding over his own as you melted against him. The pull of his lips as familiar to you as an old companion, the shivers surging down your back and over your body as you invited his tongue to enter.

His hands carefully sliding up your bare back, the sting from your injury not even bothering you as his warm fingers slid up and down your body. His touch like feathers brushing against you, tingles of delight erupting throughout your body and soul as his lips moved against yours, your mouth soon growing numb from his gentle kiss.

A low moan leaving your lips as he moved his lips away from yours to trail down your neck. His movements like a butterflies wings against your sweet spots, causing your stomach to knot and unknot continuously at the excitement and anticipation.

Your fingers now having found their way to his hair, gripping his neatly buzzed hair. The sandy locks like fine silk between your fingers as you let your head fall back, Jeans lips having found their way to your collar bone. His affection travelling down your collar bone and to grow ever closer to your breasts, your chest heaving with thrill as your heart hammered into your ribcage.

“Jean...” you moaned as his soft lips began to endorse your bare breasts. His lips peppering them with light kisses, his nose brushing inbetween them as his hands gripped you securely around your waist. His fingers gliding over the bumps of your stitches and running over your muscular thighs giving them a gentle squeeze, kisses still littering your chest and his lips sucking against the anxious skin that was screaming for his attention.

“K-keep going.” you whispered raising your head up to press your forehead against the top of his hair, his face still buried between your bosoms. Your fingers lacing with his hair as you felt him pull his lips away, desperately trying to keep him where he had been showering your body with affection.

His breaths tickling your skin as he remained positioned between his legs, his own breathing slightly strained from the pent up arousal.

“We should stop.” Jean whispered as he pulled away and out of your grip as you moved your head away from his to stare him once again in the eyes.

He rubs the back of his head, his undercut bristling under his fingers as a red blush lights up his cheeks.

“I don’t want you to tear your stitches. Here...” he says getting up and grabbing you a bathrobe that had been hanging on a peg by the door, he throws the white robe your way.

Reaching out you catch it, pulling it over your shoulders the cotton soft knee your skin and offering some comfort. You realise it smells like him, sandal wood and cologne, it’s a heavenly scent that fills you with an airy light headedness as you bury your nose into the collar of the dressing gown. It’s a little too big for you, the sleeves passing your hands and it’s falls loosely around your shoulders.

Jean watches you for a moment, swallowing a lump in his throat as he cleans up the med kit to put back in the cabinet.

He could remember playing with you in his childhood. The days spent on the park kicking around a football or bullying Eren, he smiled as the memories flashed through his mind as he placed the bed kit back in the cabinet. Things had certainly changed that was for damn sure, you weren’t the same person you were before you had left the scouts vigilante agency. City Rose hadn’t felt like home without you in it, it had broken Jeans heart to see you what you become. A criminal, a mad-woman the press had labelled you.

Jean could recall passing Levi’s office in the HQ, he had heard the unmistakable sound if crying coming from the head vigilante’s office. Jean had taken a peak in the ajar door to see the stoic raven haired man crying to himself, a photo in his hands that Jean had assumed had been of you. The first months of your reappearance had shaken your friends and family to extents you could never understand. Jean realised as he closed the cabinet doors to glance back at you, that he wasn’t angry with your choice. Maybe if he understood why.

“You gonna stare at me all day Horseface?”

“Huh?” Jean asked dumbly, shanking his head to watch as you rolled your eyes, standing up to tighten the sash around your slim waist.

“Can I get a drink? Almost bleeding to death is thirsty work.”

“Sure.”

...

The tea cup was placed in front of you on the kitchen table. The steam rising from its milky surface in twisting trails of wispy vapour, you thanked Jean as he placed his own cup down opposite you and say himself down. Reaching out you grasped the cup, holding it in your cold fingers. The warmth from it helping to ease the numb pain you had in your fingertips, the heat flushing your face as you brought the cup closer to your lips, taking steady sips. The burning liquid searing your tongue and throat as you took steady sips, you hadn’t had tea in a long time.

Sighing in content you clutch the tea cup to your chest, pulling your legs up from the cold floors to rest on the chair, your knees under you chin as your cup was placed inbetween your stomach and thighs. Acting like a tiny hot water bottle to soothe your tense muscles. Jean’s dressing gown still tightly wrapped around you, as if you were embraced in a hug; his scent lingering on the fabric and putting your mind at ease.

“You gonna tell me why you got so beat up?” Jean asks, his coffee left on the table to steam, his narrow eyes watching you cautiously from across the table.

“What’s it to you?” you defend and he frowns at you.

“Who hurt you and left you so guarded?” he snapped “isn’t possible that someone actually cares about you?”

“Who would care about me?” you mutter, staring down at your tea as you run a thumb over the rim of the ceramic tea cup “I’ve been breathing but it feels like I’ve been dying on the inside. I’ve never been told by anyone that I was cared for. Do you know what that’s like? To just simply exist without ever being told that anyone gave a damn about you.”

“Levi...”

“Levi never gave a rats ass about me. The only reason he took me in was cause he felt guilty, he had been abandoned and so he felt a sense of morality towards me. He never once kissed me good night or helped me when I was hurt. He only told me the world was shit and that I had to rely on myself to survive.” you growled, hiding your face under a curtain of hair to conceal your eyes that shimmered with tears.

Jean watched, his eyes wide as he took in what you said and his frustration only growing. He knew that Levi had not been an A* parental figure, the man want exactly a beacon of love. But Jean did joe that Levi had cared for you a great deal, you just couldn’t ever believe that anyone would. Jean knew. He knew you would never comprehend that anyone could possibly love you because you didn’t know what love was. But to hear you say those beliefs out loud struck a nerve in him that he found harder and harder and control.

“Maybe Levi wasn’t always affectionate, but he loved you!” Jean growls slamming his fists into the table causing the coffee cup to jolt.

You didn’t flinch. You opened your mouth to speak but was cut off as Jean began to chew you out.

“We all cared about you (y/n)!” he yelled rising to his feet, his eyes brimming with salty tears as he glared at you his voice cracking and he seemed to hesitate before speaking again “I loved you. I do love you.”

“Jean...”

“Why would you leave?” he asked, his voice quietening as he fell back into his chair, resting his elbows on the wooden table surface to rest his head in his hands.

His fingers pulling on his hair as tears ran down his face.

“Why would you leave me?” he whispered.

The air left your lungs at his words. Your heart shattering at his broken voice, his trembling form hunched over the table as your head spun. He loved you? Was that possible? The days spent riding bikes in the sun with childish giggles that still rang in your head, the evenings spent doing late night homework on your bed while watching some stupid movie, the mornings spent taking runs together to prepare for the vigilante tests and the nights spent laughing in a local bar as you ignored the world that had continued to move around you. Trapped in your own bubble, years spent with him by your side.

You hadn’t noticed the tears that ran down your cheeks until you saw them fall into your tea. The brown liquid rippling as the salty beads fell from your cheeks into the cup.

“I didn’t mean to hurt you.” you breath “I didn’t think you’d miss me.”

Jean raised his head from his hands, his cheeks streaked with tears, his doe brown eyes quivering.

“Of course I missed you. I love you (y/n) how many times do I have to say that?” he asked inhaling a deep breath and wiping his eyes “you know I want you, it’s not a secret I’m trying to hide.”

“How can you say that?” you ask, locking your (y/e/c) eyes with his “after all I’ve done how can you-“

“Because I know you want me too. You’re just too stubborn to admit it, you claim that fate is pulling you away. But who’s gonna stop me if I decide we’re meant to be?”

“You think it’s easy?” you snap the tears free falling from your eyes, your vision blurring and your body flushing with heat as your voice became thick with tears “you think I don’t wanna run to you? God. We can be just you and me within these walls but when we go outside you’ll see how hopeless this is Jean. I’ve changed. You’re a hero...”

“Vigilante. We aren’t always the good guys.”

“But you’re not always the bad guys either.” you sigh wiping his sleeve over your damp face turning away from him and resting your chin on the palm of your hand, your fingers curling around your lips “I’m always gonna be the bad guy Jean. It’s not in the cards for us to be together. I don’t know what I was doing when I came here, not really. But maybe, somewhere deep down...I love you too. But there are some doors we just can’t walk through.”

“You’re not going to fight for this?” Jean asks rising to his feet “you’re not going to...”

“What can I do Horseface?” you chuckle trying to push away the pain “this would never work out an you know it. I’m wanted and will be in a life sentence if they ever catch me. Your reputation will be stained and I can’t do that to you.”

“I don’t care.”

“Yes you do.” you say warmly standing to your own feet and taking steps towards him “you care about being a vigilante and saving those who can’t save themselves. It’s who you are.”

“Then why can’t I save you?” he whispers.

“I don’t need saving Jean. I saved myself by going rogue. The freedom is my saviour.”

“But you went rogue...”

“It’s ok Jean. It wasn’t a cry for help.”

Hesitant, he steals a look at you before glaring into the floor as you wrap your arms around him. You rest your head on his shoulder, his own arms finding their way around your body. Pulling you closer into him, resting his chin on your head as he holds you in his arms, the tears all but dried.

“That night on the rooftop was amazing and when my side heals, maybe it can happen again.” you whisper against his chest, his heart hammering under your ear as he holds you tighter into him.

“I’d like that.” he replies, his voice husky from the crying from earlier and he sniffles quietly, his lips pressing into your hair and inhaling your scent.

The same as always, strawberry.

“You can turn me in you know.” you say and he chuckles weakly.

“Where’s the fun in that?”

“True.”

“Where are you gonna go?”

“You have a lot of questions tonight.”

“I’m a curious guy.”

You raise your head off his chest to shoot him a smirk shaking your head at his clumsily attempts at conversation.

He gave you a weak smile as he leaned down to press his lips into yours, your body limp in his half and your hands raising to meet his face, sliding over his jaw line as you once again endorsed in the passionate act of kissing. His hands tracing over your figure and brushing over the stitches from under your dressing gown, you hiss and jerk away biting your lip at the sting in your side that throbs an angry red, pulling you back into reality.

“I should get going.” you say forcing yourself to pull away from him but he catches your wrist in his.

You pause and turn your head over your shoulder to gaze at him with curiosity. His eyes don’t meet yours and another blush crosses his nose and cheeks as he shines his free hand into his pocket.

“You’re gonna need this stickers taken out in about three weeks.” he says finally building the courage to lock eyes with you and you feel your heart flutter in your chest at his words, giving him a small smile.

“I’ll see you in three weeks then Horseface.” you say warmly and he nods, letting your wrist fall from his grip to allow you your freedom.

“Oh and (y/n)...”

“Yes?”

“You deserve to be loved.”

You close your eyes, huffing in amusement as a smile crawls over your face. You walk towards him again pressing a kiss to his cheek and throwing your arms around his neck, burrowing you nose into his neck, the warmth coming from him hearing up your cold nose.

“I don’t deserve your love Jean Kirstein.” you whisper as you pull away again pressing a soft kiss to his lips before walking towards the staircase.

“Call your dad!”

You hear him yell up the staircase after you.

“He’d wanna hear from you.”

“Maybe.” you reply as you make it to the top of the stairs.

“Oh (y/n).”

“Now what?”

He smirks at you from the bottom of the stairs.

“I can’t wait to see you again.”

“See you soon Horseface.”


End file.
